Elf Cam
by HyperMint
Summary: Sometimes, John can't help wondering about Finch. (A little Christmas-type one shot.)


Disclaimer: Person of Interest is not mine, nor is the linked song in the story.

AN: Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

It was just the latest in a string of Numbers that required more work, than action.

John had finished up with the family and was sitting on a coffee break before returning to the Library. He knew he could just talk to Finch through the ear pieces they both wore, but he knew the other man felt better and relaxed when he actually walked through the door and stood in front of him – preferably unscathed.

It wasn't going to be difficult, considering how much of nothing he'd been doing the past weeks full of boring Numbers.

Not that he was complaining, but he wanted some action or he would start going crazy.

He was trying to figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his night, when a group of kids wandered by. The oldest was probably barely a teen, but he seemed to be able to handle the group with ease.

That took some skills, as far as he was concerned.

"Hey, Blake," one of the little girls eagerly plucked the boy's sleeve. "Think they saw me today?"

"Yeah!" one of the little boys beamed. "I bet they saw me, too! Those Elves are going to be _drowning_ us with presents at Christmas at all the good things we been doing!"

Elves? Christmas?

Still at least four months away, too early to be thinking about December yet.

But it did explain how the oldest boy managed to keep control over the flock of little ones, threatening them with 'Elves' and coal in their stockings.

John watched them mosey past in no obvious hurry and huffed a laugh.

Elves, right.

'Whatever works, I guess.'

He did remember being just as … gullible?... ready to please at that age, just as worried about some kind of all-knowing Santa putting him on a list to distinguish him from other kids more deserving of gifts. Once the holidays had rolled around, he'd been on his best behavior.

That group, however, seemed to be doing their time even this far out from the big day.

The kid he'd used to be would have told them that Santa was far more interested in them closer to Christmas, because he would be getting ready to go around the globe and he had to plan ahead like his Mama had told him. That was to mark off the bad kids before Christmas so he wouldn't have to waste time when he had so many good kids to visit.

But, back then, he'd always understood – and believed – that it was always Santa who, by some kind of magic, always knew who to give the presents to. The Elves, however, had always taken care of the presents. Nowhere had it been said that the Elves had been involved in the 'Naughty'/'Nice' lists.

The group that had just passed, however, believed that the Elves were the 'end all, be all' of their names being on one list as opposed to the other and that they were being watched by the present making Elves twenty-four/ seven all year round.

He doubted any of them had yet to question how many Elves there 'actually' were so that they could split into teams of 'presents' and 'surveillance'. Or maybe there were the present making Elves on a classified 'Need to Know' basis, while an elite team of their fellows made the decision according to some kind of Elf version of mission parameters.

That team would be watching via any means possible, like cameras hooked up to birds or shapeshifting into the birds themselves. Birds were everywhere, weren't they?

Or they could just be like Finch and watch everyone do everything via some complicated Machine-like program that spat out addresses instead of Numbers.

Yeah, he thought as chuckles turned into outright laughter. He could just _see_ a couple high clearance Elves tapping into security systems all over the world to spy on children for Santa's 'Naughty' and 'Nice' lists.

*\

Harold could breathe easier when his partner's footsteps barely made a sound as they approached his computer desk. "All's well that ends well, Mr. Reese," he glanced up and blinked at the strange look the other man was giving him. "Mr. Reese?"

"… yeah," he said shortly, giving him an intense study that made him look down at himself. "If it's okay with you, I… I have some errands to run."

"By your leave, then," he nodded. "No Number tonight, I'm afraid."

Frankly, the look he was getting made him wonder if that was such a bad thing. The taller man appeared to need a break.

He didn't move for long moments, blue eyes almost thoughtful in their gaze. "Say, Finch… You built the Machine for the Government, right? To track terrorism threats?"

"Yes…" he answered, raising a brow. "Why else?"

It was a long moment before Reese gave his head a good shake. "Never mind. See you tomorrow."

He stared after him for a long moment before huffing out a sigh.

The man did indeed require a break – starting with an afternoon at the gun range.

A longer holiday wouldn't go amiss, either.

* **\End


End file.
